


Growing Up

by snarkyscorp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyscorp/pseuds/snarkyscorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James wishes he could grow down instead of up—Scorpius wishes he was a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up

Scorpius wishes he was a man. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror for two hours, awash in his skinny reflection, angular nose, white cheeks, ashen hair. He counts the speckle of hair on his chin, the sparse and light curls on his chest, the thin trail that snakes down his stomach and coils at the base of his prick.

 _There are spells that can help_ , Fred told him once. _At my dad's joke shop, but they're no joke._

Scorpius knows it's no joke growing up like a puny, pathetic worm of a kid. He doesn't want to get picked on anymore. He wants to be like James Potter. All muscle-bodied and hairy-chested and broad-necked and vulgar. He wants to say things like James says them, with an overconfident air of arrogance and honest wit.

Thinking of James, Scorpius watches his dick swell and slaps his own face to stop it. The pain is not the antidote anymore; it has become the poison.

By the time his cheek is red from the slap, his dick has arched its way towards the sink. Scorpius thinks about the dark fringe of James' hair, the way James jerks his whole head to flick it from his eyes, how James' lean-lipped mouth might look parted in ecstasy while he orgasms. Scorpius' prick twitches again, and he can feel James staring at him. James would say, _Faggot_ , and mean it. James would say, _Bender, pillow-biter, cunt-hole_ , and Scorpius would let him, would drop to his knees and beg him for more if it meant James was really watching him, really paying attention to someone like Scorpius.

But James is always worlds away, an entirely different species of Hogwarts boy: James is a man.

~*~

James wishes he could grow down instead of up. Tomorrow, he will sit his N.E.W.T.s. The day after that, he will be finished with Hogwarts forever, and the last thing he wants is anything 'forever'.

James changes girlfriends like his dad changes moods—constantly and on whims. Nothing ever satisfies him, no girl is ever 'the one' like his mum hopes they are. When he grows bored, James needs distraction, a change, something new to satisfy the urge in his body. And as Harry Potter's son, he can get whatever he wants. He made the Quidditch team by surname alone, could get a job at the Ministry without sitting any exam, and the girls line up just to be his lab partner in Potions.

James has it made.

Tomorrow, things will change, and though James likes when most things change, he is scared that this change will be _the one_ that lasts forever. He imagines that from now on, everything will be different, and he may not even recognize himself after the N.E.W.T.s.

Looking in the mirror, James combs his long, unruly hair back, tries to slick it for a change of pace. But the hair, like his dad's, just uncoils and sticks back up in tufts that all the other blokes his year envy. But for a minute, he doesn't want to be just Harry Potter's son—he wants to be James fucking Potter the _first_ , not the second. It's why he signs all his essays _J.S. Potter_ , why he hates when Hagrid slips up and calls him Harry. He is not his father, he is not his father's father—he is J.S. Potter, the one, the only.

Smearing spit on his lips, he watches them glisten, thinks how nice it must be for kids who didn't grow up with the fame to be who they are without doubt and self-loathing. He wonders what it would be like to be somebody else's kid, and smiles for the first time all day.

~*~

James is already in the hot tub by the time Scorpius arrives. _Albus invited me,_ he wants to say, to excuse the fact that he is staring at the muscles on James' bare arms and the glisten of water clinging to his tan skin. He also wants to say that he is old enough to get in the hot tub with James alone, that he has sucked dick and would do it for James if he wants it, that they have the whole summer to explore things if James is curious, because Albus said he's always welcome.

Instead, he blurts, "Is it hot?" like an idiot, feels the rush of blood to his skin and knows without seeing it that he is blushing. He can feel the heat in his cheeks, knows how stupid it looks by heart, because he always looks stupid when he blushes—it spreads like a disease down his throat, across his nose, blotches at his shoulders. His skin is so pale it looks like he's contagious with it.

James looks up, stares, and then sighs. Without answering, James slips out of the hot tub and saunters past Scorpius.

"Goddamn it, Albus!" he shouts. From across the patio, Albus comes running.

"What's the matter?" he asks, looking from Scorpius to James as if they'd been caught doing something wrong.

"I finally get a bloody moment to myself on my first night home from Hogwarts, and you bring _this_ to greet me?" James gestures at Scorpius like Scorpius is some ugly thing, like a roach in the middle of the kitchen. "Get him the fuck out of my sight."

Scorpius hangs his head, brushes his blond fringe over his forehead. He wishes he had the guts to drown himself, feels ten times smaller than he is in the swim trunks that slide down his hips as it is.

"Oh, get off it," Albus snaps. "You don't need to keep that constant chip on your sodding shoulder—you're not at Hogwarts anymore; there's no one here you've got to impress. What's it matter if Scorpius is here?"

Scorpius looks up in time to see James scowling at him.

"Just _look_ at him. He's got 'tosser' written all over him."

The heat in Scorpius' cheeks multiplies tenfold. Albus shifts, sighs, and then waves Scorpius forward.

"C'mon, mate," Albus says. "We'll jump in the pool, yeah?"

Scorpius doesn't have it in time to reply. He feels ill and uncomfortable, wishes he could pull his red-flushed skin over his face to hide. Unable to say a word, he sulks off quickly to stand by the pool. He can hear Albus and James arguing in heated whispers behind him, but he tries to zone it out. Little phrases like _my house too_ and _so what if he is?_ drift across the patio.

Scorpius watches the water in the pool. The surface is so still. It's almost still enough that it looks like Scorpius could walk on it if he wants to. He thinks how his dad is always telling him he should try out for the Quidditch team, how he's always boasting to his grandparents about Scorpius' aptitude for Potions. His father says things like _just like his dad_ but he knows deep down he is still a disappointment in everything else.

Reaching out with both arms, Scorpius leans forward, dives in. Under the chlorinated water, he lets his body sink to the very bottom. Lifeless, dreamy, alone— _quiet_. He likes it at the bottom of the pool, where he can't hear Albus defending him or James berating him or his own thoughts betraying him. He likes it quiet.

~*~

James spends the whole evening in the hot tub, either with his feet dangling in the bubbling water or with his whole body submerged until he can't breathe anymore. It's nice being rich, being so well off that he can just waste his life away like this if he wants. His parents won't allow it, not forever, but tonight his mum's gone to France for a Quidditch game and his dad's working late. They made sure to celebrate James' graduation from Hogwarts with a big family dinner, but James is thankful to have time alone. He likes being alone more than he likes anything else. But he doesn't get to be alone most of the time. Most of the time, he is surrounded by people who don't understand.

It is a long time before Albus leaves. James hopes Scorpius is gone too, but when he glances to the pool, he can still see the pale shadow his brother's best mate makes against the dark night sky. James isn't sure what possesses him to watch, but there's something about Scorpius' fragility in comparison to the vastness of the evening sky that is really striking. If he could write, he'd write it down and read it over and over again. There's something perfect about it. Something unique.

Scorpius turns, catches James watching. James really hopes the kid doesn't get any ideas. He is _not_ a tosser like Scorpius. Albus could be and everybody would say it's okay, Lily could be and it would be cool, but James can't be, because he's the oldest and has the most to lose and would let everyone— _especially Dad_ —down.

When Scorpius stands up, James turns back around, rolls his eyes, and sinks his feet back in the water. It's hot. He's agitated that Scorpius is still there, but he says nothing when Scorpius sits down beside him, so close that James knows it's not by accident.

"How'd you do on your N.E.W.T.s?" Scorpius asks, all niceties and idiotic sentiments.

James groans. "Don't you have some cock to suck?" he bites out, leaning back so all his weight rests in his palms, stretched out behind him on the concrete. The look on Scorpius' face—pure humiliation and flustered naiveté—makes James sneer. "What? Going to try and tell me you're not a bender? That you don't get off sucking other blokes' dicks? That you wouldn't—"

"Why do you have to be like that?"

James hesitates, takes the bait. "Like what exactly?"

"An arse."

Now the look on Scorpius' face makes James feel ill. He shrugs. "I'm not. Anyway, sod off. Didn't I already tell you I wanted to be alone? I'm seventeen goddamn years old, am starting by big fucking life beyond Hogwarts, and I don't want to be pestered by some snotty little faggot."

Scorpius doesn't move. When James looks at him, he sees the dark blush on Scorpius' face, the embarrassment and anger etched into every twitch of his lips and the bow of his eyelashes. For a moment, he feels a twinge of guilt, but it passes when Scorpius says, "You don't even know me," like he thinks that's a good comeback.

James laughs, rolls his eyes, lolls his head back and balks at the stars. "Yeah? Well, blow me, Malfoy."

James really thought that was a good way to tell Scorpius to sod off, but instead of being left alone, James hears the splash of water that tells him Scorpius is in the water. When he looks down, he sees the crown of Scorpius' blond hair between his thighs. Panic and arousal weigh his shoulders down, gather like jolts of lightning in his tendons. He can't stop looking at the serious, awed, nervous expression on Scorpius' pale face, the way the colours from the water and sky and patio furniture glaze on his skin. Scorpius is like an empty canvas, ready to be filled.

"Well?" Scorpius asks. He is all bravado suddenly, all quirked blond brows and cocked head and dangerously enticing in his innocence. There is no way in hell Malfoy has ever sucked a dick in his life—maybe he's wanted to, but he never has. The look in his eyes tells James everything he wants to know.

But James is cruel, and he whips his flaccid prick out faster than Scorpius seems prepared for. Scorpius' blue eyes are wide as James kicks off his trunks and palms his length.

"There. Happy now, tosspot? Going to give it a good suck or backing down like the little chicken faggot you are?"

Now all the colour has gone from Scorpius' face, wiped clear. Now Scorpius looks sallow and dusty, like a statue someone forgot to clean.

"I just…wanted you to like me," Scorpius whispers. He backs up, makes waves of rushing water between them. "I didn't think—"

"That I'd want a blowjob? Jesus fucking Christ, Malfoy. I don't like anybody, let alone you, good blowjob or no."

"I'm not really like this," Scorpius explains. "You're always ignoring me or yelling at me, and I know you think I'm some little runty kid, but someday I won't be this way, but you'll never change, because you're just a hateful arsehole who doesn't care about anybody but himself, and even if you're perfect now, you won't be perfect forever, and I won't love you forever, and then you'll just be alone."

The words are a rush, like the blood suddenly pounding against James' skull. He feels like all this time, the only person who ever understood him was this small flint of a kid who's no bigger than dirt under his boots. James feels like he's washing away under Scorpius' assault.

When James finally moves, it is only to sink into the hot tub. The water scalds his tan skin red, but that is nothing to what it does to Scorpius—he looks even smaller in the water, even tinier as James approaches and dwarfs him, corners the kid against the curve of the enclosure.

"So, you think you know me? Just because you see me at Hogwarts, just because you're mates with Al—you think you get me and all the shit I think and feel and see?"

"Yeah," Scorpius says, courageous somehow despite the look in his eyes that proves he's mindless with fear.

"Well, you're wrong."

"Prove it." Scorpius' voice is so small, just the echo of the bubbles rumbling in the spa. He looks sweaty, sticky, but soft too, malleable.

James watches him. As he leans in, he sees the stutter of Scorpius' lips—the helpless bob of his mouth, the slack of his jaw. James cants his head for the proper angle, gives Scorpius Malfoy what James knows is his first kiss in the world, and then grabs the concrete walls of the spa to climb out, hoists himself effortlessly to retrieve his trunks.

"See?" James says. "Wrong."

Scorpius flails trying to get out, and he's so clumsy that it's almost endearing. But there's something about the way he looks at James now that James hates.

"Don't idolize me," James snaps, shoving Scorpius away when he approaches. "Go to bed, count your lucky stars I didn't punch you, and do not fucking tell a goddamned soul what happened here, you understand?"

Scorpius nods. "Yeah. But—"

" _What?_ "

With a shuffle of his feet, Scorpius smiles. "Thanks."

"Get the fuck out of my sight, Malfoy."

"Right. Good night, James."

James waves him off, watches Scorpius disappear, hears the creak of the backdoor to the Potter cottage house, and groans. James wishes he had Scorpius' outlook now, wishes someone would have kissed him in the spa years ago and set him on a different path.

Sitting at the edge of the hot tub, James wonders what his N.E.W.T. scores will qualify him for, wishes he had a choice in matters but fears that he will never be happy enough to take what he wants and not worry about disappointment.


End file.
